


Crash

by TheFantabulousPandemonium



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Multiple Pairings, Swearing, The Author Regrets Everything, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-30 22:43:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8552170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFantabulousPandemonium/pseuds/TheFantabulousPandemonium
Summary: Closing his eyes, he rolled his shoulders before offering a hand out to help the assassin up. She stared at it like it was going to bite her.





	

It was sudden. One moment he was ducking into a narrow hallway somewhere in Numbani, picking off the Talon agents that dared to think they could catch him unaware.

The next, he slammed into someone and the wall behind them, crashing down onto his knees to the clatter of weapons and trying to blink away the dizziness.

It was quiet, for a few brief seconds, and he still had a tight grip on his own rifle which meant the other person had to have been unarmed, before a muffled curse reached his ears and they started to struggle. Thin, spindly fingers scrabbled against the front of his jacket, his own tightening on their shoulder until they cried out. He knew the voice.

“ _Merde_ , get off of me.” Widowmaker hissed, reaching blindly for the gun just out of her reach. He didn’t get off. Instead, he leveled his rifle at her without hesitation. They were enemies, Talon was actively trying to kill him, and she was the weakest link. He knew better than to let her get away without consequence.

“Gimme one good reason why I shouldn't just kill you now.” Her face darkened in the dim light from outside and the red glow of his visor, and she made another grab for her weapon. It didn’t connect, the rifle skittering away when her fingertips brushed the grip. She had more than enough to defend herself with between her mines and her grappling hook, he was certain, as well as whatever other little surprises she kept on her person.

And yet she didn’t use them.

“Because,” the assassin said, quieter than before but with the same amount of venom, “Talon is here to deal with a problem, not Overwatch and its buffoons.” It was barely acceptable as an answer and he shifted to press the barrel of his weapon closer, resting the cold metal over where her heart should have been. Her breathing hitched.

He wasn’t entirely sure she even had a heart anymore, like he had imagined the faint pulse just faintly recognizable underneath the thick leather of his glove.

“Problem?” He asked. Again, it was quiet, Widowmaker’s eyes narrowing and the only sounds their breathing and the echo of distant gunfire. He didn’t move. Everyone assumed Talon ran much smoother than the newly reformed Overwatch, but if he was hearing correctly, it wasn’t. Interesting.

“It’s none of your little heroes’ concern, _enfoiré_. Leave.” The silence was almost deafening. She deflated eventually, looking away with a deep frown. His eyes narrowed as well behind his visor. A scatter of gunfire broke the spell, footsteps and voices rushing past their deserted hallway and he could vaguely make out the word _traitor_. Widow mumbled something beneath her breath, every quick rise and fall of her chest making bare skin hit the barrel of his rifle.

“Run that by me again.” It wasn’t a question. Words spilt out when his fingers met the trigger, more than he could have expected from the assassin in any other circumstance. Despite being brainwashed and not under autonomous control, was it possible she actually didn’t want to die? He kept this thought to himself later, writing his mission report.

It wasn’t his concern.

“Bullshit.” He said after awhile of listening, but slowly took his hand off the trigger. Widowmaker huffed indignantly, fingers running along the edge of her grappling hook nervously instead of going for her weapon again. His knees were starting to hurt from digging into concrete and tile and the more she tried to hide Talon’s purpose here, the more his curiosity grew.

“Believe what you will. We deal with our own defectors, Seventy-Six. Do not go sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong.” She snapped eventually.

“Too late. Who’s the defector?” He asked, this time, and she looked away once more, inhaling sharply. Then, she gave in.

“Sombra.” The name was familiar, vaguely, though he’d never encountered the hacker himself. Even more interesting, it seemed, than he’d thought.

He sat back on his heels for a moment, steadying himself before standing. One of his knees almost gave out on him and he bit back a groan of pain, an ankle popping a few seconds later. He was getting too old for this running around business, if it was coming through the multitude of serums he’d been pumped with. That, or he just had terrible joints.

He removed the barrel’s aim for her chest, hesitantly, propping the weapon up onto his shoulder and scanning the rest of the hallway. Nothing, same as before they’d collided. Closing his eyes, he rolled his shoulders before offering a hand out to help the assassin up.

She stared at it like it was going to bite her.

Widowmaker took the offered help eventually, pulling herself unsteadily up and grabbing her gun as soon as she could. He let her, settling his own into both hands once they were free and turning his back to her. It wasn’t the smartest move, considering she could have taken the shot at the back of his head and he would be hard-pressed to survive it at this range.

But the assassin didn’t.

“This didn’t happen.” He growled, striding out of the hallway and back into the dying sunlight. Faintly, he could hear a murmured agreement and the sharp click of her heels moving away. Now that he was looking for the signs, the other Talon agents were panicked, rushing by him and clearly looking for someone.

And, since he was moving more toward Overwatch’s drop ship than shooting at anything that moved, they didn’t attack. A few flashed worried glances at him, and several others stopped and turned around immediately, but he made it to the ship unhurried and unharmed.

So perhaps she wasn’t lying.

He didn’t include that in his report, either.

**Author's Note:**

> If my french is wrong I am so sorry.


End file.
